


come back when you're scared

by fixwithgold



Series: Whumptober 2020 [7]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Canon-Typical The Spiral Content (The Magnus Archives), Dissociation, Exhaustion, It/Its Pronouns For Michael | The Distortion (The Magnus Archives), Mood Swings, Other, Whumptober 2020, disorientation, hey look jon's crying again, michael: get the fuck out (tenderly carries jon out), the author projects onto jon constantly, written as jon x michael but it's so vague you can read it as gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-07
Updated: 2020-10-07
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:53:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26900932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fixwithgold/pseuds/fixwithgold
Summary: Whumptober Day 6:Prompt: I've Got YouJon finds himself in The Distortion.
Relationships: Michael | The Distortion/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Series: Whumptober 2020 [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1947046
Comments: 4
Kudos: 45





	come back when you're scared

Jon does not remember how he came to be in The Distortion's endless hallways, nor how long he's been wandering inside them. It's been long enough for his vision to start blurring from exhaustion under the gaudy walls and his footsteps to start echoing strangely. The sound seems to bounce out in front of him and then somehow _at_ him, making him flinch and fight the urge to duck.

He stops walking for a moment to push his sleeves further up his arms and wipe his clammy hands on his trousers. He shudders when he does so; the fabric feels wrong, his _skin_ feels wrong, like it's the wrong color and too tight.

Jon realizes he's leaning against one of the horrible walls, trying to catch his breath and prevent his consciousness from fleeing his body, which it seems to be trying to do. The edges of his vision are dark and the middle is bright, throwing afterimages and halos at him. A sudden wave of vertigo knocks him down and he presses his back to the wall to try and ground himself. Everything is too close and too far away and too much.

"You're certainly in no condition to be here, Archivist."

Michael is in front of him, a collage of curls and garish colors and spindle fingers. Its arms are crossed, one finger tapping impatiently on his elbow as it lengthens and shortens. Lengthens again.

"Michael," Jon says, meaning to sound accusatory. Instead it comes out as an embarrassing whimper.

"Your presence is quite annoying, you know. Your particular disorientation is like a gnat buzzing and banging around in a lantern. So close but just out of reach, eluding capture."

Jon's legs won't brace enough to lift him off the floor. Michael crouches down to his level and brushes a strand of hair from his face with one impossible digit. A shiver of cold static passes through Jon at the touch, and Michael laughs its headache of a laugh.

"Oh, dear. And the worst part is, you're too confused to even be scared, Archivist! Awfully rude of you. The least you could have done was get some rest before you walked so far into my corridors."

Jon must look quizzical—though he's far too removed from his body to know for sure—because Michael laughs again.

"Some information for you, to feed that brain of yours. This maze is denser the deeper you find yourself, and even an Archivist will find itself lost if it isn't very careful. And you were quite reckless, weren't you? Stumbling through the door, sleepless and aimless?" 

And that's suddenly hilarious, for some reason—reckless, sleepless, aimless!—so Jon barks out a laugh and then keeps laughing and laughing until his sides hurt. His head hits the wall behind him with a slight spark of pain and he knows nothing for a while.

"Yes, well, I was getting to that," Michael says when Jon comes to. He looks...uncomfortable? Jon almost starts laughing again, but puts a hand to his face and finds tears there, and his inexplicable mirth vanishes, replaced by aching sadness that sits in his chest and radiates out to his whole body. He gives a hiccuping sob. "In such a sorry state, you have very little hope of controlling your emotions, which you seem to have noticed."

Jon nods shakily and futilely wipes away tears that just keep streaming down his face. Michael sighs in exasperation.

"Even telling you that didn't inspire any fear. What a waste. Lucky for you, I suppose. I don't want your human nonsense in here, so you'll need to leave."

"How do you expect me to do that?" Jon shouts, his vision flashing red. He tries to get up again, fully intending to rush at Michael and do...something. Punch it? But his legs buckle once again and Michael rolls his eyes, which seem to vanish completely for a fraction of a second. The fit of rage passes and Jon is left crying again.

"Archivist, please. I am these hallways and they are me, and I am no one. Rest assured you will have a way out."

Michael wipes a tear from Jon's face, making him shiver, then grasps Jon's wrist in his hand. It sends odd ripples of how the color yellow sounds through Jon's skin. His vision turns cloudy through his tears and it lists sideways as a wave of vertigo hits him.

"It's Jon," he slurs before everything whites out completely.

He's sideways when he regains enough consciousness to do any sort of thinking, but only for a moment before a smaller fit of dizziness ends with him landing on his feet. Jon blinks to clear his head—and the water from his eyes—and finds that he's in front of Michael's door, which is slightly ajar. Michael itself is beside him, arms crossed and tapping impatiently once again.

"Get out of my hallways, Archivist," Michael says.

"Wait, how did we— did you—"

"Don't come back unless you can be scared."

Jon finds himself in his office. He turns around to find the Distortion's door is nowhere to be seen.


End file.
